Beauty from Pain
by Silverneko9lives0
Summary: Severus is watching the Potter's funeral. Remus finds him. They talk. Inspired by "Beauty from Pain" by Superchick. T for language.


_**Beauty from Pain**_

_Severus watches the Potters' funeral from afar. Remus finds him. They talk. Snupin Friendship. Inspired by "Beauty from Pain" by Superchick_

Am I allowed? I feel I shouldn't be here.

I hide behind the chapel, staring at the wizards and witches who speak.

All of their family that remains is here. But no friends stand there with them. I could go, I guess. But what will I say that could make anything better?

I know why Pettigrew is not here. And why Black can't make it.

But where is Lupin?

He should be there standing in the crowd. So why isn't he?

"Why are you hiding?"

I look behind me at Lupin. I just stare. I can't even manage a simple glare. His face is as expressionless as mine, but his eyes are red and still glossy, though he tries to act like he hasn't been crying.

"Why are you?"

"I'm not wanted," he spat, crossing his arms. "You know why."

I shrug. "I don't particularly see why that would be a problem, considering the time of day and month."

"Why aren't you there yourself? Weren't you and Lily close?"

"A long time ago," I say, turning back to listen to what I can catch of Dumbledore's poetic eulogy. However, there's irony in that there is nothing poetic about this.

The tattoo on my arm itches. I want to tear the skin that bears it off.

The coffins are lowered into the ground. It's not right, burying Lily. Why does she have to be encased beneath the earth?

"Not for a long time since."

"Do you know where Harry is?"

"No."

Lupin silences behind me.

The mounds of earth are moved over the coffins. The mourners are leaving. Dumbledore looks in my direction. Can he see me and Lupin?

I can never tell with that man.

"Where are you going to do now, Lupin?" I ask, turning back to him. I don't know why I'm curious, or why I'm bothering to be polite.

"I don't know. I can't really go anywhere. Being what I am, no one will hire me. After all, I'm dangerous." He tries to smile, but I can see the pain in his eyes.

"Only once a month," I note.

"No one cares about that tiny detail, do they?"

I hate admitting it, but he and I are the same as of this moment. We both lost our best friends. We're both completely alone and ostracized for what we are.

Who'd be crazy enough—other than Dumbledore—to forgive us for what we are?

Sure, I don't deserve forgiveness. I understand and accept it. I make the choice to sell my soul to Voldemort.

But Lupin didn't choose to be a werewolf. It's not just. It's not fair that people already think they know him because of his own demons.

I don't know how he's done it—no, I do. It was Potter. Potter liked him. He didn't get tortured at school like I was. No. Potter helped him up—the same Potter who pushed me down helped him stand.

"Some did," I point out. "Some did care. You were blessed, Lupin," I add dryly, smirking. I'm mocking us both. "Wasn't school supposed to be hell for the both of us?"

Lupin stared at me. "It was hell for me, Snape. Even though I was included, it was hell."

"You know nothing of hell!" I shout, my pent up anger bursting out.

Lupin narrowed his eyes at me. "The hell I don't!" he growled. "Hell is being looked at for what you truly are and judged for it even when you never asked to be what you are."

"Hell is being beaten and pushed around at home, then having to endure that at school! No escape!"

"It's agonizing pain!"

"It's losing your only true friend!"

"It's being locked in a cage!"

"It's taunting laughter with no one who'd dare offer sympathy when you need it!"

He swallowed, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. "Hell is when you know, that while your closest friends do stay by your side, they still look at you with fear," Lupin said, quietly.

I can't think of anything that can beat that.

"They used to treat me not much different than the way they did you. Just in the common room until they figured out what I am. Then they stopped."

I can't look at Lupin.

"Lily knew," he admitted, leaning against the wall. "And she was the only one I know who knew and was not afraid of me."

Lily. Dear, incorruptible, courageous, and angelic Lily. It seems impossible that she's gone.

"You were in love with her, weren't you?" Why am I torturing myself more?

"So were you. And so were Sirius and Peter. We all were in love with her in one way or other. How could anyone not be? Lily was…" he pauses, as though unsure what word to use to best describe her.

"An angel," I say for him.

"Yeah," he agreed, "an angel."

Silence layers over us, thick and bitter and crisp as the air.

Robbed of an angel…nothing about that is right.

Lily…

Beautiful and humble; kind and passionate; strong and admirable; all of which made up Lily.

"A lot of the guests praised James. But no one thought to do the same for her," Lupin noted. "Just mention that she was a nice girl and a wonderful mother."

"We are."

He looked at me, "For whom to hear? She was a true hero. Her son is still alive because of her. James had nothing to do with Harry's survival. It was her. All her."

"Who needs to hear?" I ask, making up my mind. I straighten and approach the grave. Lupin followed. "I met Lily at the park near our homes. We lived close by to each other and became friends. I was…abused by my father." Lupin stared at me a moment, his mouth open in shock. "She helped me understand that there was nothing normal about my family and she was my only real family."

I feel stupid when he doesn't speak. I shouldn't have said anything about my father.

"Lily figured out I was a werewolf in our first year," he began. "She just came and asked, pressed, all curious, and wanting to understand. I had been taught that what I am is to be kept secret no matter what, so that she figured me out scared me. I thought she'd tell if she knew. She didn't. I learned to trust her and I am glad I did. I've never felt human until I met her."

I wave my wand over the grave. An assorted bouquet rests over Lily's grave.

Of all the unjust things to happen, the death of Lily Evans was the most unjust thing I can think of. And for that, I hate Voldemort with a passion I can't put to words.

I don't want to say goodbye.


End file.
